Lessons from a classroom: Why unforgettable teachers inspire curiosity

What makes a classroom truly unforgettable? Inspirational teachers leave a lasting impression on their pupils.

I taught literature and language for about 35 years, but I stopped when I moved into administration. Even now, the classroom stays with me — a place of discovery, surprise, and conversation that often twists in directions I never anticipated. My pupils, whether in India or the UAE, were always the same: intelligent. Perceptive. Fearless. They kept me on my toes. Walking into class unprepared? Like bungee jumping without knowing how long the cord would hold.

Poetry. Prose. Julius Caesar. The Merchant of Venice. Ruskin Bond’s hills. Tagore. Narayan. Wordsworth. Tennyson. Every text a doorway. Into laughter. Into silence. Into debate. Into understanding that couldn’t be forced. Couldn’t be planned. The best lessons were never tidy. The best teachers, I discovered, encourage pupils to think. Thinking leads to questions. Dialogue. Debate. Surprise.

You plan. You organise. You map it all out. But the plan cannot strangle curiosity. The classroom — the conversation — must breathe. Must twist. Must leave room for ideas that catch you off guard. And my pupils — they were lightning. Sharp. Quick. Perceptive. They caught subtleties I hadn’t noticed, challenged assumptions, made connections I hadn’t imagined. Their questions often took the lesson in directions I hadn’t anticipated, and I loved every second of it.

Teaching is a dance. Structure meets spontaneity. Push meets pull. What you intend. What emerges. Never the same twice. Education mirrors poetry: you think you know the path. You prepare. You anticipate. And then — a student says something. Small. Offhand. And suddenly the narrative tilts. The lesson is alive. Understanding is never fixed.

Courage is everywhere. Courage to let pupils wrestle with ambition, morality, longing, or the quiet, tender moments Bond captures — or the reflective lines of Wordsworth and Tennyson. Courage to trust that young minds will navigate complexity, question with integrity, and make connections across continents and centuries. They laugh. They argue. They pause. Sometimes they sit silent, struck by a line that pierces. That pause. That moment. It teaches as much as any lesson I could plan.

For teachers — those who have taught, and those who still do - write. I’ve found writing both stimulating and therapeutic. It sharpens thinking. Clarifies reflections. Surprises you with insights you didn’t know were there. Write in your notebook. Write for yourself. Write for your students. Let your voice spill onto the page. Let it be messy. Alive. Experimental. Writing keeps you curious. Reminds you why you teach. Why words matter. Why literature matters.

The most profound discoveries rarely come from what we teach — they come from what we uncover together. Inspirational teachers inspire curiosity. When pupils love the teacher and the teaching style, they invariably fall in love with the subject too. And even years later, when I meet my former pupils, our conversations almost always drift back to classrooms of old, to poetry and prose, to the laughter, debates, and lessons we shared. It leaves me feeling warm, fuzzy, and wonderfully nostalgic. In that shared space — full of curiosity, insight, laughter, and debate — we are all poets. All dreamers. All participants in the strange, beautiful business of being human.

So, whether you teach, have taught, or simply love words, pick up a pen. Reflect. Share. Inspire. Keep the classroom alive—not just in lessons, but in every question asked, every idea sparked, and every story waiting to be discovered.

Michael Guzder is Senior Vice-President of Education at GEMS and a former Principal